Saving Jane
by MadameCissy
Summary: Several years after their friendship was destroyed, Maura finds her way back into Jane's life when the detective is accused of murder. Will Maura be able to prove Jane's innocence and can they overcome what drove them apart or is it really too late to start over? [Rizzles]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Several years after their friendship was destroyed, Maura finds her way back into Jane's life when the detective is accused of murder. Can they overcome what drove them apart or is it really too late to start over?

**Pairing:** Rizzles - because is there really anything else?

**Rating:** T, mainly for language

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rizzoli & Isles. They belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.

**Note**: I had originally intended for this to just be a one shot but as I wrote it I felt it had the potential of becoming a multi chaptered story so here goes. This will be a slow burner so please, be patient. I will also continue to update my other Rizzles story "To Protect And Serve"

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**Chapter 1**

**Prologue**

~()~

_I know I've tried your patience_  
_ I know I've stretched your heart_  
_ The sky fell down hard upon me_  
_ I been crawling in the dirt_  
_ Nobody's fault but mine for sure_  
_ And not just me who's hurt_  
_I went out from the halls of grace_  
_ Turned my back on my own_  
_ Please leave your light on for me_  
_ Cos I've been taking the long way home_

_~Paul Kelly -Please Leave Your Light On For Me**  
**_

~()~

The first time it happened was after a case that drained them both emotionally. They had never been so broken, so destroyed. They were no longer the people they had been before and the world seemed different. Somehow facing the depravity of mankind had left them cold and numb, their hearts aching and yearning for something, anything, that would make them feel human and alive again. It had been a natural progression; too much beer, too much wine. Too much pain, too much of everything else. Too much of anything is never good and she realised that the next morning when she found the bed empty and cold. Her clothes were gone. She didn't even leave a note.

They carried on as if nothing ever happened. That one night had been banished to a different world, a world that didn't exist within their real lives. It lay hidden underneath the base of their friendship, like an evil monster lurking in the dark, and neither of them saw how their denial was slowly tearing things apart. You see, something that has been done can never be undone, no matter how hard you try. It is always there's like a broken heart made out of glass. You can fit the pieces back together but you will always be able to see the cracks. And the next time it breaks you may not be able to put it back together again.

People have the ability to ignore things they just want to forget but our brain has the nasty habit of forcing us to remember. We want to just move on, pretend that all the bad things never happened, but then there's a voice, or a smell or even just some goddamn song on the radio that rips your heart right out of your chest. She'd stopped listening to the radio a long time ago. The memories sucked and she couldn't deal with the pain.

The second time it happened was because she lost her temper. Fuelled by anger, by frustration. She'd been waiting for the damn lab results for six hours and still nothing. She'd stormed down to the morgue and found her in her office, reading something on her computer. The windows had vibrated as she slammed the door behind her. She hadn't registered the panic and fear in her eyes. Her anger was too blinding, too all consuming. What followed was a fight that brought to the surface everything they had tried to hide. After that they were broken, their lives forever changed, and as they stared at each other they knew they would never be able to escape from this.

Somehow their anger had driven them back into each other's arms. It hadn't been about love or passion or even kindness. It had been borderline feral. The marks left behind ran deeper than the bruises across pale toned skin. There were wounds that would scar but never heal. She knew she had been driven by an underlying desire to be loved, to feel wanted and needed. But she chose to ignore it. When she walked out of her office she felt her heart ache in her chest. She knew that when that door closed behind her there would never be a way back. She kept walking, right out of the morgue and right out of her life.

Their friendship had ended in that moment. What remained was a professional relationship so strained that people avoided being in the same room with them. They avoided each other, too. She went as far as erasing her number from her phone and requesting a different M.E to work her cases. She did anything not to be reminded of what her life had once been like.

Days turned into months and the words they spoke to each other became fewer and fewer. Gone were glances, the tentative smiles. What had once been their friendship was now a pile of burning ashes, left behind after the flames had torn the foundations apart. They were now just two people who had become strangers, pulled apart by their own feelings. They were no longer friends. They were nothing anymore.

There was a third time. It was more painful than the other times before because she had come to say goodbye. She had stood outside her apartment door, guilt etched across her face, looking forlorn. The rain had ruined her designer dress and her hair was stuck to her face. She couldn't help but find her so fucking beautiful and hate her at the same time. The words she spoke had hit her in the face like a sledgehammer. Somewhere along the way she had lost track of her life, of what she was doing. She hadn't even noticed something had changed. She didn't even know she was anymore. When had they become these people? These shadows?

"I'm getting married, Jane."

It hurt. It hurt like no other fucking thing had ever hurt in her life.

Her heart shattered into pieces she knew she would never be able to put back together. She didn't see the point anyway. She didn't need it anymore.

But still they fell into each other again and when it came to the moment where she left the bed, her head hung in shame, she couldn't meet her eyes. Even after all this time, with all the anger between them and all the things left unsaid, she couldn't face her. She couldn't look back at what they had been, what they could have become. All she had were the broken pieces of their lives, torn apart and left to die, and as she got dressed she knew that when she left this apartment, she would never come back again. She also knew that if she were to turn around, she would never be able to leave. She walked right out of the door without even whispering goodbye.

And here she stood, in the back row of some big church in the middle of Boston. It was packed full of people, all dressed in their most expensive suits and dresses. They all smiled. She blended in perfectly here in the back. No one saw her, no one paid attention to her. They didn't see how a quiet tear slid down her cheek as she watched how the women who still held all the pieces of her broken heart gave what was left of her own to someone else.

She winced when she heard the words "I do" roll off her lips.

They were a lie. The whole damn thing was a fucking lie.

Jane Rizzoli slowly turned around and stepped out of the church, back into the early morning Boston sunshine. It felt warm on her skin and it quickly dried the red marks left behind by her tears.

It was over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**3 years later**

Maura Rotherham-Isles walked into the living room of her Beacon Hill home, heaving a sigh of relief when she dropped the heavy bag she'd been carrying onto the couch. She rubbed the sore patch on her shoulder where the bag's strap had cut into her skin. The muscles in her arms protested against any form of movement and she looked forward to the moment where she could rest her tired and weary body in a hot bath.

Two strong arms slipped around her waist and a kiss was planted an inch below her ear. "How does it feel to be home?"

Maura turned around to face her husband Ethan and slid her arms around his neck. Even after an eight hour flight he somehow still looked and smelt amazing. Maura on the other hand felt grubby and in desperate need to change her clothes. Her dress was wrinkled and her feet had swollen up during the flight, leaving her Manolo Blahnik's uncomfortably tight.

"As much as I love London, it's good to be home," she smiled. Hazel eyes searched her husband's face. He didn't show even the tiniest hint of tiredness. "Are you sure you're not going to miss England too much?"

Ethan's intense green eyes connected with his wife's hazel ones. "Boston is your home, Maura."

"But London is your home," she countered. "How many times have I told you that I really wouldn't mind moving to England if that's what you wanted? I can easily find a job over there. In fact, that friend of your father suggested I should come work for him at Kings College Hospital."

"I don't want to move back to England, Maura," Ethan answered and brushed a strand of hair out of his wife's eyes. "There are far more opportunities for me here in the States. Besides, now that Constance has moved back to Boston I would have thought you'd want to spend more time with her." He gave her a knowing look. "You know she'd never forgive us if we have a baby anywhere but in Boston. Neither of us is getting younger. If we want to start a family, now is the time to do it. "

"I know," Maura said, remembering the conversation they had only a few days ago. "I just don't want you doing this because of me."

Ethan shook his head. "We can keep doing what we're doing now. I quite like the idea of spending six months a year in England but having Boston as a home base. I wouldn't want to be in England during the winter months anyway."

"Ok." Maura smiled, reassured that Ethan really did agree with coming back to Boston in time for Christmas. "Would you mind bringing the rest of the suitcases in? I really need to get out of these shoes and I am dying for a bath."

Ethan nodded and Maura quickly pecked him on the cheek before climbing the stairs to the first floor. She kicked off her shoes when she walked into the bedroom and continued into the bathroom. She switched on the taps and chose one of her favourite bottles of bubble bath that were lined up on the side. She poured two caps into the warm water and inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla as the first bubbles began to fill the bath.

Maura walked back into the bedroom and stripped out of her dress. She left it on the bed ready to be dry cleaned first thing in the morning and turned to the mirror. She stared at her reflection. The white lace of her underwear was a soft contrast against the milky colour of her skin. Her arms, legs and stomach were dusted with a fine layer of freckles. The longer she looked at herself the more she tried to imagine herself in a way Ethan would love to see her; carrying his child.

She'd known about his desire to start a family from the moment they first met. They had only been dating for a few months when he invited her to his sister's wedding in London. When she saw him with his little nephew, only a few months old at the time, she saw a man who would make a great father. Not long after they got married he asked her what her thoughts were about starting a family. She'd told him she'd considered it but had been waiting for the right person to come along. When he asked her if she had finally found that person she had just kissed him, answering his question without words.

Maura turned away from the mirror and slowly stepped out of her panties and unhooked her bra. She tossed them into the laundry basket on her way to the bathroom and when she opened the door she was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of vanilla. The room was warm and cosy and Maura carefully stepped into the warm bath.

Her muscles instantly relaxed as she sunk below the water's surface. The bubbles covered her from her shoulders to her toes and her eyes fluttered shut as she rested her head against a towel she had rolled up behind her neck. Slowly the stress of a long haul flight across the Atlantic and a five hour time difference ebbed away from her.

She didn't leave the bath until the water had started to go cold. She wrapped a towel around herself before padding back into the bedroom to find Ethan standing beside the bed. He was unpacking one of the suitcases and looked up when Maura walked into the room.

"Feeling better?" he inquired and she nodded.

"Very much so. I wish they found a way to make these flights a little shorter."

"Just be glad my family doesn't live in Sidney."

Maura just grinned as she walked to the wardrobe and opened it. She chose a pair of black pants and a simple cobalt blue sweater. She got dressed and then turned to help her husband unpack. As the minutes pass she became aware of him looking at her every so often. When she looked up, two pairs of her husband's jeans in her hands, she found him watching her again and she arched an eyebrow.

"What?" she wanted to know. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"I just keep trying to imagine what you will look like when you're pregnant," he smiled. "You're going to be beautiful."

She averted her gaze and continued to put the clean clothes away. When she still hadn't answered him after a few minutes, Ethan stopped what he was doing, circled the bed and put his hand on Maura's shoulder. She felt herself freeze, which was not what she usually did, and only slowly turned around. She couldn't quite bring herself to meet his eyes and he read her like an open book.

"You do still want to start a family, don't you?" he asked, a hint of fear echoing in his words.

"I do," she answered and her teeth worried her bottom lip. "I just… I need to figure out what I want to do with work first, okay? I need to talk to the hospital before we make any decisions."

"Maura, I'm not saying that we should start trying right away," Ethan said soothingly and stroked her cheek. The touch was comforting and erased some of the uneasiness Maura was feeling. "I know you have things you want to figure out first and that's fine. All I'm asking is that you think about it. Maybe we'll just go for the whole not protecting not trying thing for a little while first and see what happens?"

She forced herself and smiled. "Okay," she said and sighed. "Next month, okay?"

He kissed her on her forehead. "Okay."

"You want me to make you something to eat?" she asked.

"Maura, the fridge is empty. The only food we'll be getting involves picking up the phone and having it delivered."

She looked at him. "What would you like? Thai? French?"

"How about pizza?"

She pulled a face. She wasn't too keen on pizza but when her husband gave her his best impression of his puppy dog eyes, Maura gave in anyway. She smiled as she walked out of the bedroom and went downstairs. She made her way into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Ethan was right. It was empty. At some point they would have to go out and buy groceries otherwise there wouldn't be anything to have for breakfast the next day. She sighed as she closed the fridge door and looked around for her handbag. It lay on the dining table and she rummaged through it to find her phone.

When she switched it back on she noticed a text message from Ethan's mother. She quickly read it but didn't bother replying now. With her phone in her hand she walked back into the kitchen and opened the drawer where Ethan kept the take out menus. He had a favourite pizza place and the menu lay on top of all the others. The number was printed across the front and Maura typed it into her phone before pressing the 'call' button.

A male with a strong Italian accent answered on the other side and Maura gave him their order. He promised it wouldn't take longer than forty minutes to get to their address and Maura hung up just as she heard Ethan come down the stairs. He walked into the living room wearing a pair of jeans and a simple grey hooded sweater.

"Have we got any wine?" he asked as he sunk down on the couch and reached for the remote control.

"I think there's a bottle of Merlot still in the cupboard," Maura answered.

She rose to the tip of her toes to open the cupboard where they kept the wineglasses, took two and put them on the side. She then opened her wine cupboard and was pleased to find that she was right. She took the bottle and found the corkscrew. She began the process of opening the bottle and recognised the familiar jungle of the evening news coming from the living room.

"Maura?!" Ethan suddenly called and there was a hint of something in his voice that Maura couldn't place. Something unsettling. "Maura, come here!"

With both wine glasses in her hand Maura walked from the kitchen into the living room and found Ethan sitting up straight, staring at the TV. He had taken the remote and paused the screen. Maura's eyes slowly drifted up to the screen and her heart skipped a beat when she recognised the face of the woman in the picture that was shown.

Ethan hit 'play' and the male newsreader began to speak.

"_Earlier today, Boston Homicide Detective Jane Rizzoli was arrested for the very crime that she investigates. Detective Rizzoli is suspected of murdering Aaron McKenna, the serial rapist who was released from prison two weeks ago after serving only three years of his fifteen year sentence. According to a statement released by the DA'soffice, Detective Rizzoli is alleged to have stalked McKenna since his release and an altercation between them came to a head when Detective Rizzoli pulled her gun and shot McKenna in the head."_

The sound of glass breaking snapped Maura back into the real world and she looked down. The two wineglasses lay at her feet, shattered into tiny pieces. The burgundy liquid seeped into the wooden floorboards. She couldn't move. She stood nailed to the floor, her body suddenly frozen. When she looked back up Ethan was at her side.

"You ok?" he asked.

She dint speak. She just nodded. Her voice was gone.

"Come on, sit down. I'll clean this up."

Maura slowly sat down on the couch and only noticed her hands were shaking when she picked up the remote and turned up the volume. She struggled to press the button as she couldn't get her fingers under control. As she looked back up at the TV screen she saw the image of the newsreader changing from the studio to an area outside.

To her horror Maura realised that the camera was directed at BPD Headquarters and the front entrance. She saw half a dozen other cameras and at least six or seven different journalists, all with recorders and microphones. Lights started flashing when the door opened and Jane appeared. She was flanked by two officers Maura didn't recognise. Both looked solemn and did their best to manoeuvre Jane through the crowd of journalists. Her jacket had been draped across her hands, obscuring the fact that she had been handcuffed. She stared down at the floor, her raven curls falling in front of her face.

From where she sat Maura could see how tired Jane looked. The dark rings around her eyes betrayed a lack of sleep and whispered a story of a woman who had suffered, who had been tormented. Jane's face was pale and gaunt. Her eyes had sunken deeper into her head. Her shirt fell loosely around her already slender frame. She didn't look up to face the camera or any of the reporters.

The newsreaders voice could be heard again.

"_Detective Rizzoli has been transferred to Framingham State Prison, also known as Massachusetts Correctional Institution Framingham, a medium security facility for female offenders. She will be held here until a date for her bail hearing has been set. Our reporter informs us that the DA is likely to press for remand and is considering Detective Rizzoli to be a flight risk. It is currently not known whether Detective Rizzoli will be placed amongst the general population in the prison or whether she will be kept in isolation for her own safety."_

Maura couldn't take her eyes off Jane. She looked so fragile and so small, Maura thought. She looked as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders.

It had been three years. Three long years in which she had not seen Jane Rizzoli. Until now.

Maura ached. She ached in a way she didn't remember ever aching before. Somewhere in her chest there was a pain that was so horrible, so sharp, that it brought tears to her eyes. Tears that then streamed silently across her face and dripped down into her lap. Tears that burnt her skin as they slipped down her cheeks, leaving behind red marks that made it look like she had been whipped.

The sight of a broken Jane Rizzoli brought Maura to tears as she realised that, deep inside, she still was broken too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** Hey guys, I am finally back of my holidays and wrote this update for you all. I wrote it on the plane back from the States and I had originally planned to make it much longer but when I reached the end of what I had written during the flight, I felt it was good the way it was. So I hope you'll all enjoy it and I promise I will from now on be back with far more regular updates. Those of you reading this story as well as "To Protect And Serve" can expect an update from the latter one during the weekend!

If you like, please listen to the amazing piece of music called "Ghosts" by Thomas Newman. It was stuck on repeat on my phone as I wrote this chapter.

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**Chapter 3**

The sound of the cell door falling into its lock was deafening. Metal scraped across metal and the sound that followed bounced off the cold brick walls. Once it had faded out all that remained was silence. The aching echo of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears was a dull reminder that she was still alive eventhough inside she felt like she was dead.

Her cell was small. She could walk from one side to the other in just three steps. The walls were bare and painted in a shade of meaningless grey that was both lifeless and depressing. A window with frosted glass and metal bars both on the inside and the outside let in a small amount of daylight. She could make out the fine shape of raindrops sliding across the glass.

The sheets she had been given to make her bed lay still neatly folded on the old, dirty looking mattress on the bottom bunk. The mattress had seen better days. The springs were worn; the once dark blue pattern circled pattern embroidered onto the fabric had long since faded. There were a couple of stains of which she did not dare question the origin. The thin looking pillow was flat. Perhaps there had once been feathers inside but all that remained now was the white casing.

On the other side of the cell was a stainless steel toilet. It had been mounted to the wall, out of fear that it could be ripped off the wall and used as a weapon in a fit of rage. The sink had been attached in a similar way. A paper cup held a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste and a roll of toilet paper balanced precariously on the edge. There was no wall separating the toilet from the rest of the room or even the door. There was no privacy here. She'd given up that right when she walked through the door. This was all there was; this was what her life had become.

Jane Rizzoli looked down at the orange jumpsuit she was wearing. The pants fell loosely around her long legs. She'd tied the top half around her waist, wearing only a white tank top that showed off the strong toned shoulder muscles and the slight sun kissed bronze tone of her skin. Her thick black unruly curls cascaded down her back, forming a sharp contrast against the white shirt. Her dark eyes drifted around the small cell, taking in her new surroundings.

In the distance the sound of the female warden's footsteps faded. A door buzzed before it opened. It buzzed again as it closed. The echo of footsteps disappeared and she was alone. She'd overheard the wardens talk as they processed her. They had mentioned "keeping her away from the general population because it would be too dangerous" and "cops get lynched in here." To the prison officers she was still one of them.

Jane didn't care. She wasn't anything anymore.

She turned to the bed and began putting the sheet on. She took extra care to tuck in the corners, making sure her lines were sharp and her folds precise. She slipped the thin pillow into the pillowcase provided and gave it a firm shake. It barely changed anything and she put it back down. Jane then put the blanket across the sheet, making sure everything was neatly folded into place. She let her hands slide across the dull grey material. It wasn't soft. In fact it felt rough against her fingertips and it brought an unexpected shiver down her spine.

In this unguarded moment the images from the past twenty four hours flashed through her mind. The hollow sound as her finger pulled the trigger, releasing the bullet from inside the gun. In the distance someone screamed. The sound of sirens wailing in the night, dark shadows whose faces were lit up only by the flashing of red and blue lights as they walked towards her. Solemn eyes that took in the scene in front of them as dark blood spilled across the sidewalk. Hands had suddenly rested on her shoulder, fingers that pried away the gun from her hands before quietly sliding the metal handcuffs around her wrists.

She'd looked up into their eyes. The eyes belonging to the people she knew so well. Korsak and Frost and eventually Frankie's tearstained face. Even now she still heard her mother's heart breaking sobbing just before they led her into the interrogation room. She could hear her banging on the window, screaming and crying on the other side. Someone must have taken her away because after a little while it went quiet. It had been quiet ever since.

They asked questions. She didn't answer. They confronted her with the evidence. She didn't speak. They asked her why. She didn't tell. They begged her to explain, to help them understand. She couldn't.

When she arrived at the prison they had asked her to strip down. She did. She handed over her jeans and her sweatshirt, panties and her bra. They bagged it all, sticking evidence tags on every item before placing it into the brown bags. Then everyone left the room, leaving her with two female officers who told her they would subject her to a search, on her body as well as internally. They apologised for the invasiveness of what they were about to do. After that they never spoke again. She just did whatever they asked of her. She never cried. She never even flinched.

Then they had transferred her to this cell, locking the door behind them as they left. No one knew exactly how long she would be here for. Someone had mentioned they would be looking into getting her a lawyer. It could take days or even weeks before a bail hearing was scheduled. Until then she would wait here, in the emptiness of her cell.

Jane sank down on the bottom bunk and lay down, her hands folded behind her head. She stared up at the bed above her, the metal writing slowly imprinting itself into her mind. She forced the images and the voices into the back of her head, locking them away into a corner where she didn't have to think about them at all. The sound of the rain rattling against the window was numbing and as she lay there she couldn't help the questioning herself. What if this had never happened?

What if her life hadn't changed the way it had? What if she hadn't become this person she was now? What if the most precious thing in her life hadn't been so brutally ripped away from her? What if, even after all these years, she wasn't still so bitter and so damn hurt? What if this had been her own fault instead of someone else's?

What if she had never met, or loved, Maura Isles?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It had been three years since she last set foot inside the building. It hadn't changed. It looked exactly the same like it had done when she walked out of the main entrance doors three years earlier, ready to embrace a different part of her life. Now she stood on the sidewalk, her winter coat securely buttoned up to protect her from the bitter cold December wind. Winter was well and truly here and overnight the first flakes of snow had fallen.

Maura took a deep breath, climbed the three steps to Boston's Police Department Headquarters' front door and stepped inside the pleasantly warm building. She removed her gloves, pushed them into her pockets and crossed the lobby towards the uniformed desk officer. She didn't recognise him but when he looked up he instantly flashed a smile.

"Doctor Isles."

She didn't correct him on the fact she had taken on her husband's name. She was too surprised that this unfamiliar officer knew who she was but then she realised that for many years she had been a household name around BPD. In a way she shouldn't be surprised that even those who arrived after she left knew about the Queen of the Dead.

"Yes," she said with a tentative smile. "Doctor Maura Isles. I'm here to see Sargent Vince Korsak."

He nodded, handed her a visitor's badge that she clipped onto her white cashmere sweater once she had removed her coat and then pointed towards the elevators. "You know the way."

The sound of her heels clicked against the grey lino floor as she walked to the elevator and pressed the 'up' arrow. As she waited for the doors to open, her eyes drifted around the lobby and came to a rest on the small cafeteria on the other side. A handful of uniformed officers just walked out clutching cups of coffee and a couple of detectives enjoyed what looked like a late breakfast. Maura searched for a familiar flash of brown hair but she didn't see Angela Rizzoli. Her heart sank a little and she was snapped out of her thoughts when a soft 'ping' announced the elevator had arrived. The doors slid open and to her relief it was empty. She stepped inside and rested her back against the wall when the door slid shut.

Her heart pounded in her chest with such force that she almost believed it would burst through her ribcage. The palms of her hands became sweaty as she watched the numbers above the elevator doors light up. When the light hit the number four, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Maura hesitantly stepped out onto the corridor and realised immediately that it had been painted.

The dull, boring shade of magnolia that had covered the walls when she still worked here had been replaced by a warmer shade of blue, giving the corridor a much more airy feel. Posters warning people about pickpockets and advertising phone numbers to call in times of crisis were plastered across a large bulletin board. In the distance she heard the sound of a phone ringing and she took a deep breath before starting towards the large double doors that separated the hallway from the Homicide bullpen.

When she reached the doors Maura held still. She'd lost count of the amount of times she had walked through these doors. It had always been to see Jane. Whether it was work related or just because she wanted to see her. It had been so natural once, so normal. Now it didn't feel like that at all. It felt frightening; as if stepping through these doors meant confronting something she wasn't ready to face.

Her departure from BPD had been sudden and unexpected. In the weeks after her wedding she and Ethan visited England and she was offered a rotation in one of London's finest hospitals. She accepted, desperate to change her views of the world. It was only short, twelve weeks, but in that time period she sent in her resignation. Although she and Ethan continued to travel between London and Boston, she never went back to her old job as an ME.

The memory of her wedding brought her back to Jane. Jane hadn't been there at her wedding. In fact, she had no idea where Jane had been that day but it wasn't at the church or her parent's summer house on the outskirts of town. By then they had drifted too far apart, had been too broken, to be able to look into each other's eyes and wish for happiness.

She missed Jane. She missed her with every beat of her heart. She missed everything they had once been. She even missed the nights where they had been drawn to each other after the darkness of their job took hold, slowly strangling them unless they found some kind of safety and release. She remembered those moments vividly and often, no matter how hard she tried to store them in the back of her mind. The moments where she had slept with Jane weren't moments she could forget. They were always there. Jane was always there.

Maura took a deep breath and pushed the doors open. Immediately the sound of voices and phones ringing and fingers across keyboards reached her ears. She looked around the bullpen. Nothing had changed. Three years later and the layout was exactly the same. The desks were still in exactly the same position and almost immediately her eyes were drawn to the spot where Jane used to sit. The desk was cluttered with paperwork, and an empty cup of coffee. The chair had been abandoned almost in what looked like a rush. Someone else had sat at that desk. Jane wasn't here.

"Doctor Isles?"

She looked up at the sound of a familiar voice and looked straight into the kind, warm eyes of Sargent Vince Korsak.

The first thing she noticed was the extra grey hairs and the few extra lines around his eyes. The next thing she saw were the dark circles around those eyes and the fact that he seemed to have lost weight. There was an old coffee stain on his shirt, betraying that he had been here a lot longer than he would like to admit.

"Sargent Korsak," Maura said, suddenly aware how her voice was shaking. She extended her hand but he ignored it, wrapping her up in one his bear hugs instead. She relaxed into him, feeling the unease and fear slowly fade away, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" he asked once he had let go of her. He looked at Maura from head to toe.

She had cut her hair. It now reached down to her shoulders. Time had been kind to her, kinder than it had been to him. Dressed in her white sweater and a pair of designer jeans and leather boots she looked as stunning as he remembered her being. But when his gaze shifted back to her eyes he noticed the concern and he knew why she was here.

"I heard what happened to Jane." She swallowed the unexpected lump in the back of her throat away now that she spoke Jane's name out loud. A flash of anger lit up her hazel eyes and she looked at Korsak with determination. "I'm here to help."

Korsak smiled sadly. "I don't know what there is you can do, Maura." He switched to using her first name, something he done only a few times before. Defeat was etched across his face. "I don't know what there is that any of us can do. Jane…" He paused, his gaze drifting to the messy desk across the room. "She won't let us help her."

"Why?" Maura asked softly.

"This is Jane," Korsak replied. "You know how she is."

Maura wasn't too sure about that. Until three years ago she thought she knew Jane Rizzoli. They had been best friends. Jane was perhaps the only real friend she ever had and she couldn't have imagined living without her. Jane was part of her life. But somehow things changed. The lines between friendship and lust became blurred and what followed was a disaster she wished she could forget. They had been so broken that they had sought out each other's shelter but it had only ripped them apart.

The doors behind them opened and Frost walked into the bullpen, his face buried in several pieces of paper. He almost didn't see Maura but when she put her hand on his arm when he passed by her, he turned around. Almost immediately his face lit up and he wrapped his arms around Maura, pulling her close. When his face was close to her ears he whispered something only she could hear.

"I knew you'd come back."

Maura just gave him a puzzled look when he let go of her but he had already turned around and walked back to his desk. She then looked at Korsak.

"What can you tell me?"

"Come," Korsak said as he held the door for her. "I'll buy you a coffee."

They went back down to the lobby and walked into the small cafeteria. Maura froze in the doorway and when Korsak noticed she was no longer behind him he turned around. He saw the sudden fear and sadness across the doctor's face and sighed. "It's okay, Maura," he said. "Angela doesn't work here anymore."

She hesitantly stepped into the café and Korsak poured them two cups of coffee. He then found them the table furthest away from the door, gave Maura her coffee and watched how she fiddled with the lid. He realised that, until this moment, he and the doctor had never shared a drink in the café alone before. There had always been Jane. But now that she wasn't here the emptiness of the whole situation really hit home. Seeing Maura without Jane only made that feeling worse.

"How much do you know?" Korsak asked when Maura finally looked up at him.

"Not much," she admitted. "I arrived back from London only yesterday and when Ethan turned on the TV…" She swallowed hard as she remembered seeing Jane Rizzoli being led out of this building in handcuffs. She had looked so lost. "I saw Jane. The news reporter said she had been arrested on suspicion of murder."

Korsak nodded. "Did they say who she allegedly murdered?"

"Aaron McKenna."

"He is, was, a serial rapist. We caught his case from Vice not long after you left when one of his victims died from the injuries he inflicted on her. We busted him with DNA and he went to prison," Korsak said and peeled the lid of his coffee mug so he could add some Splenda. "Jane took the case pretty hard. McKenna was a monster so when he want to jail, Jane was relieved. But then the news came that he was going to be freed after only serving three out of his fifteen years."

"Why did they let him out when they knew how dangerous he was?"

"Overcrowding, good behaviour, you tell me." Korsak made a desperate hand gesture. "When Jane found out, she changed. She became withdrawn, almost secretive. In the two weeks that followed we barely saw her. Cavanaugh hauled her ass into the office to reprimand her but she told him she didn't care."

"Jane didn't care?" Maura arched an eyebrow. "Jane loves being a detective. Nothing could ever change that."

Korsak nodded. "We all knew that. Then one night I get a call saying Jane's shot McKenna in the head." His face darkened as he remembered that fateful night. It was late, almost midnight, and bitter cold. "When I got there she was still standing over his body with the gun in her hand. I have never seen someone look up to me with such dead eyes as Jane did that night."

Korsak felt a cold shiver creep down his spine when he remembered the moment he got the call. He'd driven like a maniac across town to find Jane and when he pulled up at the scene, yellow tape already cordoned off the area. Two uniformed rookie officers were watching Jane as she stood over the dead body of McKenna, gun still in hand. There was blood on her face and on her clothes from the moment the bullet had lodged itself into his head. The pool of blood across the sidewalk had spread and continued to grow bigger. When she looked up at him he saw the same broken woman he had found the moment he freed her from Hoyt. He had hoped, prayed, he would never see that haunted look in Jane's eyes again but there she was, looking at him as if everything she had ever been was gone.

"I thought the day Jane was attacked by Hoyt was the worst of my career," he said softly. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable. "Until I saw her that night. She looked so…so… broken."

Maura's heart shattered. The thought of Jane on the street, in the middle of the night, her hand quivering as it held the freshly fired gun, tore her soul apart. She could imagine the detective's face, hauntingly lit up by the blue and red flashing lights that cut through the darkness. She swallowed, trying to force the sudden wave of nausea to the background.

"So nobody saw her actually fire the gun?"

Korsak shook his head. "That is her only defence." He picked up his coffee. "If she would talk."

"Jane's not talking?"

"No. We called the best lawyer we can think off, called in a whole bunch of favours to give her the best legal representation we can find in the whole of Boston, but Jane hasn't said a word. Funny thing is, we tested her hands and clothes for GSR and although the test was positive, there was nowhere near as much as you would expect when someone shoots someone in the head at close range."

Maura leant back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the older detective. "So that means…"

"There is a chance that Jane did not fire that gun."

"If she didn't shoot him then why doesn't she say so? Doesn't she realise she can go to prison for the rest of her life? Lose everything she's ever had?"

"We're not allowed to talk her since Cavanaugh has managed to pull some strings allowing us to work this case whilst IAB is looking over our shoulder," Korsak answered. "Internal Affairs isn't happy about it and they're scrutinizing our every move but this is all we can do for Jane. The lab is doing everything they can but the gun didn't have prints on it. We can't help her unless she wants to help herself."

"Is she allowed visitors?" Maura asked softly. "Can I see her?"

"You'll have to talk to her lawyer. I know they're keeping her separated from the rest of the prison community," Korsak answered and looked up at Maura. He knew she was thinking the same thing he was.

It had only been a few years ago that Maura herself had been a suspect in a murder case. She was arrested, by Jane, and transferred to that same prison. But unlike Jane, she had not been separated from the prison population. The beating she suffered at the hands of angry inmates was something she would never forget and the thought of Jane trapped within those same walls, chilled Maura to the bone.

Korsak reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card. "Here. This is Jane's lawyer. He's a good man. If anyone can help her, it's him. Give him a call. I know he'll do everything in his power to get you into that prison."

"Thank you," Maura smiled as she slipped the card into purse. Warm hazel eyes looked up at the detective sitting across the table and her features hardened slightly. "Now what can I do to help _you_?"

The corners of Korsak's lips curled up. "When you resigned, they hired Doctor Pike as your replacement."

Maura's eyebrows shot up. "You have been stuck with that imbecile for three years?!"

"I can't get you into the morgue without comprising the chain of evidence but…." Korsak's eyes lit up a little. "I can get you a copy of Pike's autopsy report. Are you up for some of your old tricks, Doctor?"

Maura smiled but behind her eyes flickered all different kinds of emotions. "Anything to help Jane," she answered as she stood up from her seat and walked back to the elevator alongside Korsak. "If she really is innocent, I want to help you prove it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Nobody warns you about the loneliness of prison. Everybody just assumes that you end up mingling with the rest of the inmates; sharing your meals, playing cards or watching endless reruns of Days Of Our Lives and The Young And The Restless. But they don't tell you about the loneliness you encounter between the four walls of your cell, where the only company you have is the echo of your own thoughts. Nobody tells you that prison is perhaps one of the loneliest places on Earth.

She didn't get to socialize with the other women. The guards who checked on her every so often had stopped telling her it was because she'd be lynched if they let her in there. But there was only so much silence she could take. The walls were closing in. Nothing helped to fight images in her head. She did push-ups until her muscles burnt and sit-ups until she felt sick. The pain didn't do anything to chase away the silence.

So at the start of her second day she waited by the door when she heard the guards down the hall carrying her breakfast tray. She recognised the sound of the key in the door before it opened and Jane looked up into the face of the same woman who had walked her to this cell the day before. She recognised the hint of sadness behind her eyes. It seemed that everybody felt sorry for the cop who was locked up on suspicion of murder. It was the only reason they were kind to her.

"I want to join the other women," she said as the guard, whose last name was Jenson, put the tray on her bed. "If you leave me in here, you're gonna have to put me on suicide watch."

"Do you have any idea what they'll do to you when they find out who you are? That you're a cop?"

"I don't care."

"You should care," was the answer. "I've seen what these women can do to each other when all hell breaks loose."

"I can take care of myself."

Upon realising that there was no talking her out of it, the guard nodded and stepped back out of the cell. A hint of a smile, even if it was sad, flashed across her face as she began to close the door, the keys already in her hand. "I'll see what I can do."

The sound of the door closing cut through her like a knife and Jane stood in the middle of her cell for a few more moments before turning around to her bed and inspecting the food on the tray. Porridge that smelt like it had been mixed with fruit; coffee that looked like it had been pumped from the sewage system, two pieces of French toast and a banana. She heaved a sigh before sitting down on the bed and picking up her spoon.

She ate without tasting the food. She finished everything that was given to her and washed the coffee cup out in the sink before filling it with water and drinking it. She then made her bed before walking to the frosted glass window. Faint daylight fell into the room. She didn't know what time it was. Time didn't seem to exist here. She leant against the wall, her hand against the cool glass and her eyes fluttered shut. For the first time since her arrival in prison, Jane Rizzoli cried.

It could have been a few minutes or a few hours when she heard the keys in the door again and looked up. The tears on her cheeks had long since dried and she'd been lying on her bed, her hands behind her head, in a desperate attempt to silence the endless flashbacks that kept playing over and over again in her mind. The sound of the shot as it rang out continued to echo in her ears.

In the doorway stood a female guard she didn't recognise. Black hair had been cut short into a pixie style and dark brown eyes instantly fixed on Jane. The name on her badge read Sanchez. She just jerked her head which was a cue for Jane to stand up.

"Grab your shit, Rizzoli. You're moving."

Jane quickly gathered whatever few belongings she had and then cautiously stepped out of her cell, expecting the door to be smacked in her face at any second. When she walked into the corridor she heaved a sigh of relief, glad to leave the claustrophobic feeling behind her. She didn't speak. Instead she willingly extended her arms so Sanchez could put the handcuffs around her wrists. The metal felt cold against her skin.

"Your lawyer will be here in the afternoon," Sanchez said as they began walking down the same corridor through which she had arrived the previous day. "By then you'll be in the social are with all the other women. You'll hear a buzzer and someone will call your name. Report to the guard on duty and they will take you to the visiting area. You will be searched before you leave and when you return." Dark eyes briefly searched Jane's face. "No discussions." They reached a door and she swiped her key card to unlock it. "If your bail is posted today, someone will return to your cell and collect your belongings. You will be kept in holding until bail has been processed. Transport home is your responsibility unless you want to wait for the bus which leaves every evening at 7 pm."

Jane didn't know who would come to post her bail. She didn't know if anyone would pick her up if somehow her bail was settled. She stared down at the floor as they waited outside another door. As it opened she recognised the distinct sound of women's voices across the hall. In her chest her heart suddenly began to race.

Suddenly Sanchez stopped and she turned to look at Jane. The hardened look and the almost strict tone with which she had spoken before was gone. "Listen to me, Rizzoli," she said. "Those women in there don't know you're a cop. The longer you can keep it from them, the better. They don't take well to newcomers. We'll look out for you but we can't always see you. If you go to your cell, make sure never to close the door. It makes them suspicious. Don't give them any reason to pick a fight with you. Don't antagonise them. Respect their rules and their hierarchy."

"Hierarchy? You mean they have a system in there?" Jane asked.

Sanchez nodded. "Beware of Emma Lawson and Shauna Harris. Those two think they run the block and most of the women will do whatever they say."

Jane nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Sanchez answered. "Thank BPD." She started walking again and they reached another door. This one had a small window and Jane peered inside. Sanchez swiped her card and the door unlocked itself. It buzzed as it opened. Sanchez took hold of Jane's elbow and led her inside.

Jane instantly felt every set of the eyes in the room rest on her. She looked up, a hard look in her eyes, and forced herself to look around. She counted nine different women. Most were sitting around small tables. The TV in the corner of the room showed what looked like the movie Twister. Nobody was watching it. All cell doors, five on either side of the open space in the middle, were open.

"The one at the end is yours," Sanchez pointed out as she led Jane across the room. They reached the cell and Jane was confronted with a room that was little bigger than the one she had just left. A single bed already made up, a toilet, sink, a shelf that included basic toiletries and a stash of old magazines and some books.

Jane stepped into her cell, dropped the few items she carried in her arms onto the bed and turned around. Sanchez still stood in the doorway.

"We're here if you need anything," she said, the smile she had shared with Jane now faltering. "Keep your head down, Rizzoli."

She turned around and left and Jane slowly walked out of her cell. The women in the area appeared to have gone back to whatever it was they were doing before but Jane had been trained in body language to notice that everybody was still watching her. She straightened her back, took a deep breath and without fear or hesitation she walked across the room until she reached the TV, fell down on the cheap fabric sofa and put her feet up on the small table. She knew all she had to do was wait. Sooner or later they would come to her.

She wasn't wrong. Only a few minutes past before she heard one of the chairs scrape across the lino floor. The squeaking sound of sneakers approaching made her look up. A woman with wavy blonde hair, blue eyes and a few wrinkles around her eyes that told a story of hardship, looked down at Jane. She'd crossed her arms in front of her chest but her posture wasn't threatening.

"Hey, new girl, what's your name?"

Jane held the other woman's gaze. "Depends who's asking."

"Shauna," she answered. There was a hint of a Southern accent in her voice. "Shauna Harris."

"Jane Rizzoli," Jane replied and extended her hand. Shauna accepted. Her handshake was firm and she squeezed Jane's hand as if to test her. Jane didn't flinch. When Shauna let go she pointed at the women behind her.

"Why don't ya come and join us?"

Jane shrugged and stood up. She followed Shauna to one of the tables, pulled up a chair and fell down. There were three other women sitting at the table. One of them was black, with long dreadlocks and intense brown eyes. She had her nose and her lip pierced and her arms were covered in tattoos. The other two were white. One had blonde hair held back in a messy ponytail and blue eyes as well as light brown freckles across her cheeks and nose. The other woman was of a heavier build with brown hair that fell down to her shoulders and piercing grey eyes.

"Hey," Jane said as she looked around the group. "Mind if I gate crash your game?"

"Jane, meet Lisa, Janine and AJ," Shauna said, pointing first at the black woman, then the blonde and eventually the brunette. She leant across the table, picked up the playing cards and looked around as Jane pulled her chair closer. "C'mon ladies, let her join in."

"What you in for?" AJ wanted to know.

Jane peered at AJ through her eyelashes as she took some of the cards Shauna handed her. "Shot a guy."

"Boyfriend?" Lisa wanted to know but Jane shook her head. "Your old man?"

"A guy who raped a friend of mine."

"You killed a rapist?" AJ asked and there was a silence that lasted for several seconds. The women shared a look and AJ then grinned. "Good for you. Now, you play poker?"

"Yeah."

"Good, 'cause everybody else round here sucks."

The poker game started and Jane quickly realised that AJ wasn't lying when she said the other women were crap at the game. They didn't talk much other than to raise the stakes, which came in the shape of sweets. When it came to the crucial moment in the game it turned out that Jane had won and with a sly grin she took the handful of sweets and dropped them in her lap.

"New girl knows how to play," Shauna said. She leant back in her chair. "Anyone posted your bail yet?"

Jane shook her head. "Would I be here if they had?"

"Who's your lawyer?"

"Don't know. Whatever idiot they can find, I suppose."

Shauna looked at Jane. "Well, until then, this will be your new home." Her eyes narrowed a little. "You said you shot a guy?"

"Yeah."

"Intentionally?"

"Yeah."

"So…"

Jane looked up and her eyes darkened. "This won't just be my new home for a while. This will be my new home for the rest of my life."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hours passed surprisingly fast in prison when you're not alone, Jane thought. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was almost three o'clock and still she hadn't heard the buzzer or someone calling her name. She didn't want to admit it to herself but she had almost given up. She didn't expect anyone would come for her bail today. She didn't see why anyone would. Her family couldn't afford it and BPD had nothing to gain from getting her back. The prospect of spending time inside, surrounded by the women who shared her cellblock, became more and more plausible.

She had learnt a lot about them in the last few hours. Unsurprisingly Shauna was serving a life sentence for murder; she'd shot her boyfriend at close range after an argument about drugs. AJ was in on drug charges. When the cops busted her she had enough cocaine on her to sell to an army. It was her third strike so now she'd spent the next fifteen years behind bars. Lisa, the one with the brains, was in for fraud and Janine was doing her second round in prison after throwing boiling hot water over her husband. The fact that he'd used her as a punching bag for the last ten years didn't seem to make a difference to the court.

Jane looked up when she noticed Sanchez walk into the social are. Their eyes connected across the length of the room and Jane noticed how the women around her somewhat tensed up. The atmosphere in the room changed. They were surrounded by wardens all day but the arrival of Sanchez changed something that Jane couldn't put her finger on.

"Rizzoli, grab your shit," Sanchez ordered and Jane stood up.

"Why?"

"Your bail's been posted. Time to get your sorry ass out of here. Your lawyer's waiting for you."

The women around her whistled and jeered but Jane stood nailed to the ground. She felt sick. The bile rose up in the back of her throat and suddenly her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to swallow the hard lump away and hesitantly stepped away from the table.

Sanchez followed her to her cell. The one where she didn't get to spend a single night but where she had expected to stay for days, maybe weeks. The thought of leaving stirred an unfamiliar kind of fear inside of her and once inside Jane turned around, dark eyes blazing. She eyed up the female warden who stood in the doorway, watching her every move. "How the hell did this happen?!"

Sanchez blinked, surprised by the unexpected outburst and Jane's reluctance to leave the prison. She had never before encountered anyone who seemed so frustrated by the prospect of being returned to their life outside the prison walls. "You should be glad, Rizzoli," she said, her voice hard.

"Well," Jane retorted as she grabbed her few belongings and turned her back on the other woman. "I'm not."

"What is wrong with you?" Sanchez wanted to know and she stepped closer to Jane, effectively trapping the disgraced detective between her body and the wall. The tension between them rose quickly. Two strong willed individuals but only one who could really be in control at this time. Sanchez cocked her head and searched Jane's face. "Do you know what people went through to post that bail for you?!"

Jane's eyes narrowed, wondering who made the effort to get her ass out of jail. "Who exactly posted that bail?"

"That's for your lawyer to discuss with you."

"What's going on here?"

Sanchez stepped away from Jane. "Listen, BPD doesn't like it when one of their own gets locked up. Especially if they don't believe they're guilty."

"What?!" Jane hissed. "They were eager enough to throw me in here and now they suddenly don't believe I did it?" She raised her hands as if to show something to the warden. The look in her eyes changed from angry to hurt in a matter of seconds and her mask of defiance fell, revealing the brokenness underneath. "They found GSR on these hands. _I_ pulled that trigger."

"Save it for the judge, Rizzoli," Sanchez answered and stepped away from Jane. She turned to the door, beckoning the dark haired detective to follow her. "Time to go."

They walked through the social area and reached the secure door. Shauna followed them and when Sanchez punched in the key code and swiped her card, Jane turned around to look at the other inmates who were all watching her before meeting Shauna's eyes. Half a smile lingered on the other woman's face.

"I guess I won't see you around."

Jane smirked. "I'll be back before you know it." She cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Someone's gotta play poker around here." She reached out her hand and Shauna took it. "Don't let anyone take my seat."

Jane then followed Sanchez out of the social are and followed her down the corridor. They turned right and Sanchez unlocked another door. The next corridor seemed brighter and Jane looked around. There were rooms on either side. One or two had guards standing outside. Inside women were talking to what Jane presumed were their lawyers. When they reached the end of the corridor Sanchez pointed to a small room without a window.

"You can get changed here," she said. "I had one of the officers bring your clothes."

Jane didn't thank her. Instead she stepped into the room and felt a shiver creep down her spine when Sanchez followed her in. She closed the door behind her. Jane stood in the middle of the room. On the table lay her clothes, although she did not remember wearing them the night she was arrested. Hesitantly she picked up the pair of jeans, stripped off her prison jumpsuit and slipped them on. She pulled the hooded sweatshirt over her head, straightened it out and ran her hands through her hair before putting on the sneakers.

Once she was dressed she slowly turned around to find Sanchez looking the other way. There was no privacy in prison but at least she had tried. Jane straightened her spine and her features hardened.

"Where to now?"

"Waiting room," Sanchez replied, still taken aback by Jane's reluctance. "Your lawyer is there and you'll be given back any of your valuables you had on you the night you were brought in."

Jane just nodded and she and Sanchez left the room. Sanchez led her down the corridor and turned left. She swiped her key card to unlock yet another door and when they stepped inside Jane recognised it as a waiting room. Simple metal benches aligned three of the four walls. They had been screwed into the wall to prevent anyone from trying to throw them. A stash of date magazines lay on a side table and posters warning people about crime adorned the walls.

On one of the benches sat a man in his late forties wearing a suit that would easily have cost more than Jane's monthly pay check. He had brown hair with hints of grey near his temples and when he looked up she saw a pair of kind brown eyes behind his designer glasses. A briefcase rested on the floor by his feet and he stood up when he saw Jane. His face was serious but he seemed to relax when he shook Jane's hand.

"Detective Rizzoli, I'm Shaun Langdon. I'm your lawyer."

Jane gave Langdon a once over, a cynical look appearing on her face. "I don't think I can afford you."

"My fees have been paid, Detective Rizzoli," he answered and she looked up in surprise. "Now, since your bail has been posted you are free to leave. However, there are some conditions to your bail agreement."

"Such as?"

"You are to hand over your passport immediately, you are not to go anywhere near or attempt to enter Boston Police Department Headquarters or the Medical Examiner's Office unless required, you are to adhere to the set curfew meaning you must be in your apartment between the hours of 10 pm and 9 am." Langdon looked up. The soft look in his eyes had disappeared. "Any violation of these rules will result in an immediate return to prison, bail will be revoked and you will have to wait for your trial behind bars. Do you understand?"

Jane nodded and Langdon turned to Sanchez. "If there's nothing else, I would like to take my client home now."

Sanchez saw to it that Jane got her wallet, her credit cards and her watch back before escorting her and Langdon to the main entrance of the prison. When Langdon opened the door for her and she inhaled the fresh air, Jane felt tears well up in her eyes. Tentatively she stepped outside and felt the raindrops land on her face. The sky was dull and grey and a cold wind whipped around her head. She didn't care. She followed Langdon to his car and he offered her the passenger seat. She got in, buckled up and rested her head against the window as he left the visitor's parking lot.

After a few minutes of silence Jane turned to look at him. The nagging feeling about who had arranged this top attorney for her didn't leave her alone. "I hope you don't think I'm being rude but who's paid your fees?"

"Boston Police," Langdon answered. "When they called to tell me about Detective Jane Rizzoli, I knew I couldn't turn it down." He gave Jane a sideways glance. "There have been some developments while you were inside, Jane. A lot can happen in a couple of days, especially in a murder trial."

"What kind of developments?" Jane wanted to know.

"I think they'd rather tell you themselves, Jane."

"But you're my lawyer. Shouldn't you be telling me stuff like that?"

"If this was a normal case, then yes. But I am aware that BPD are dealing with one of their own and when it comes to cops, they have a way of handling things, shall we say, differently," Langdon answered. The prison was far behind them now and they had reached the outskirts of Boston. Soon they would be back in civilisation and Jane would be home.

_Home. _

The thought of returning to her apartment unsettled her. An unnerving kind of fear crept up, slowly seeping into her chest like poison and strangling her heart, squeezing it until she felt she could no longer breathe. She wasn't sure she wanted to go back to her apartment but she didn't have anywhere else to go.

When Langdon eventually pulled up outside her building the rain had stopped. Jane glanced out of the car window up at the building. Her apartment was dark. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the set of keys she had been given back. They felt strange in her hand. She then opened the car door and got out. Langdon leaned across to the passenger seat and called her name.

"I'll call you in the morning," he said but when he saw the confused look on the detectives face he changed his tone. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No," Jane answered, her voice shaky. "I'll be fine."

"Okay," Langdon replied. "Try and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

He drove off and left her standing on the sidewalk, alone. She looked up at the building and hesitantly climbed the few steps to the front door. She stepped into the small lobby and ignored the elevator, choosing to take the stairs. When she reached the first floor Jane walked down the corridor to her apartment with slow, small steps. She eventually stuck the key in the lock and the door opened. Now that the sun had begun to set the apartment was shrouded in shadows cast by the onset of darkness and Jane's hand searched the wall for the light switch.

The room bathed in golden light and Jane let her eyes drift around. Her apartment was a mess. It had been ransacked. Furniture had been moved, there was fingerprint powder all along the door frame, the walls, the floor and the kitchen. Books had been pulled off the shelf, cushions had been torn apart and all her kitchen cupboards were open. A box of cereal had lay on the kitchen floor.

Jane felt her heart sink. Angry tears welled up in her eyes as she slowly closed the door behind her and walked further into her apartment. With every step she discovered more junk and with every step she became angrier. The tears came without warning. They slid down her cheek, lashing against her skin so violently that they left behind burning red marks. Her legs buckled when she reached the couch and Jane fell to her knees. Every piece of her was broken and she pulled her legs up to her chest, crying like she had never cried before.

~()~

Frost stormed into the Homicide bullpen clutching a file in his hand. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead and his dark eyes scanned the room searching for Korsak. He found the older detective at his desk and he ran over to him, throwing the file down with such force that Korsak looked up in shock. One glance at Frost's face told him that something had happened.

"What's this?" he asked, grabbing the file.

"That call from CSU we got ten minutes ago?" Frost reminded him. He pointed at the file. "That's our break."

Korsak scanned the information on the pieces of paper and the words slowly sank in. He felt his heart rate quicken and when he looked back up at Frost he understood just why the younger detective was so excited. He slowly put the folder down and rubbed his eyes.

"She didn't do it."

Frost nodded. "The evidence supports it."

"What evidence?" Maura asked. She had just walked into the bullpen and noticed the two men talking. She eyed up the file on the desk and Korsak gave it to her. A quick look told her everything she needed to know. She looked from Frost to Korsak and back, disbelief etched across her face. "CSU confirms this?"

Frost nodded. "They tested it themselves."

"So that means…" Maura didn't finish her sentence, unable to find the right words. It was as if deep inside of her a pit of emotions had been opened. The world around her suddenly seemed to fade into a blur. The back of her throat became dry and her hands began to shake. "She didn't fire that gun?"

"CSU reconstructed the crime scene and the shooting," Korsak explained. "They confirmed that for the amount of GSR found on Jane's hands and clothes, it is impossible for her to have fired the shot that killed our serial rapist. He was shot in the head at point blank rage. There should have been far more GSR on her but there wasn't. According to the CSU report, Jane must have been at least six feet away."

Frost pulled out of the autopsy photos from the file and showed it to Maura. "The gun made contact with the victim's forehead. You can clearly see the pattern here. The bruising, the markings… Whoever shot this guy stood right in front of him with the barrel of the gun against his head. There would have been a substantial amount of GSR on their hands and clothes."

"Not to mention that such a close contact shooting usually leaves a person with blood on their hands or their clothes because of the spray," Korsak added. "Jane's hands and clothes were clean."

Maura sank down in one of the chairs as the pieces of the puzzle slowly began to fall into place. She felt numb inside. "So she didn't do it."

"Evidence suggests she didn't. Evidence doesn't lie."

"But why would she say she did?" Maura wondered. "Why would Jane say she killed someone when she didn't?"

"There is only one person who can answer that question," Frost answered.

Maura swallowed hard and looked at the detectives. "I know," she replied, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. Jane had been willing to lie to the police. She was prepared to go to prison for something she didn't do. She knew Frost and Korsak wanted to understand why and she looked at the two detectives, tears welling up in her hazel eyes. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to be the one who asks her."

Korsak gave a quick nod. "Ok." He checked his watch. "Jane was released from prison just over an hour ago. She should be home by now. You want us to drive you?"

Maura shook her head and turned around, slowly leaving the bullpen. "I know the way."


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** Hey guys; sorry for the delay! I've had a few issues with my laptop... mainly involving a crash that has deleted most of my work. If any of you are also reading "To Protect And Serve," it may take a little while longer before I can update that one. I'd finished the next couple of chapters when my computer crashed but lost everything. I also lost all of my notes so I am doing the best I can to get back to where I was but I'm struggling. It never seems quite as easy when you're trying to rewrite something!

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**Chapter 7**

She'd been sitting in her car for almost twenty minutes, staring up at the building on the other side of the street. Lights were on behind the window and she'd seen a shadow move a couple of times. Every time she did, her heart skipped a beat and it felt like someone was trying to slowly squeeze the air out of her lungs. She recognised Jane even without seeing her face. It was impossible to forget her.

Maura took a deep breath and opened the car door. She got out, locked the car behind her and crossed the road. Her heels clicked against the tarmac as she climbed the steps to the front door. As she stepped into the small lobby she inhaled the familiar scent. The apartment building had a particular smell that she'd always associated with Jane. Now that she stood by the elevator, her finger over the button, her mind flashed back to the many times she'd been here, even when perhaps she shouldn't have been.

She remembered the first night well. Never before had a case broken her from the inside out as much as this one had. Not even when Jane shot Paddy Doyle. A little boy died because they failed to find the man who took him on time. His life had rested in their hands and they let it slip away. She'd looked at Jane and the raw pain in her eyes was something she would never be able to forget. They sought shelter and safety, a desire to get away from everything they had just seen, and when she'd leaned in to kiss Jane, Jane had responded. Their lives changed from that moment on.

Maura knew that leaving in the middle of the night was wrong. She also knew that what happened between them was something they would never be able to deny. They were drawn to each other but at the same time they did nothing but hurt each other. They were fire and gasoline, a disaster waiting to happen, but she couldn't change the way she felt, the way she desperately wanted to feel.

The second time Jane had been the one to instigate it. Angry, frustrated and most of all hurt, she'd stormed into her office. It was in that moment that everything that had simmered beneath the surface erupted. It hit them in the face like a ton of bricks. For the first time Jane Rizzoli confessed that she loved her, that she had always loved her. And Maura didn't say it back. For whatever reason words failed her but she still allowed Jane to come closer, find her way in. The one thing that still resounded in her head was the sound of the expensive art piece on her desk breaking as it hit the floor, swiped away in the heat of passion and anger.

After that, there was no saving them.

Somehow her life had carried on without Jane. It seemed impossible at first but then she found her routine, the way her life used to be before Jane. It was when she met Ethan and his kindness and his love filled a hole left behind by losing Jane. He didn't stir the same kind of emotions inside of her but he made her feel sheltered and warm when she needed it the most. He was there when Jane wasn't there anymore. When he asked her to marry him, she accepted. But before their engagement hit the papers she knew there was one person she had to tell first.

Seeing Jane destroyed everything her life had become. It was all still there, all the broken pieces of their old life. Right there in front of him lay the remnants of what could have been if she had had just spoken those three words in return, if she had accepted everything she felt inside. She hadn't come to see her one last time, she had come to say goodbye but it had become another night of guilt, passion and tears. Leaving Jane meant leaving a part of herself behind. A part she had never been able to get back.

Maura took a deep breath as the elevator doors slid open. She stepped inside, pressed the button and her eyes fluttered shut as the doors closed. Her heart thumped in her chest and the palms of her hands were clammy. Fear rushed through her veins. She had never been more scared in her life and seconds suddenly seemed to feel like hours. When the doors opened again she stepped out onto a familiar floor and her eyes were instantly drawn to Jane's apartment.

Every step was followed by a hesitation. There was still a way out, a choice to leave all of this behind. But when her knuckled rapped against the wood, it was too late. There was no escape anymore. She was here, she would have to face what would come her way. She'd done her running. She was tired of it. She couldn't run anymore. She didn't want to.

The door opened and Maura's eyes snapped up.

Jane hadn't changed. Raven black curls trailed down her shoulders and her back. She wore a white tank top and a pair of grey sweatpants and clutched a tea towel in her hand. Even in the dim light of the hallway Maura could see she'd been crying. The lines around her eyes were deeper than she remembered them being. A mask of someone who had suffered, who felt pain, had replaced that of the woman she had once known. Dark eyes looked hollow and empty, having lost their usual shine. From the corner of her eye Maura noticed the black marks left behind by the fingerprint powder along the doorframe.

"Maura?"

Jane's soft, husky voice snapped Maura back into reality and slowly she let her eyes trail up until she met Jane's. She tried to smile. It was a sad smile.

"Hi."

Jane didn't move. Bitterness laced her voice. Her eyes narrowed as she searched Maura's face. She looked as stunning and beautiful as ever. She hadn't changed. It was as if she had only left here the day before, destroying everything in her wake. Her hair fell down her shoulders, framing her face. Hazel eyes were bright and drew Jane right back in. Dressed in a simple pair of designer black slacks adorned with a silver belt and button down shirt tucked in to her pants, Maura looked like she had walked out of the latest edition of Vogue magazine.

The anger that coiled in the pit of her stomach roared. "What are you doing here?"

"I errr…" Maura stammered, caught off guard by Jane's harshness. She'd seen the brief flickering of hope behind her eyes but it was gone now, replaced only by emptiness. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Now you want to talk?" Jane spat and pulled the door open further so Maura could see the devastation of her apartment.

Maura's hand shot up to her mouth. "Oh Jane…"

"Don't," Jane said sharply. Her breath hitched when unexpected tears welled up in her eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I heard what happened," Maura answered. "With the shooting."

"I didn't know you were back in Boston."

"I came back yesterday." Maura took a step closer to Jane but was careful not to enter her personal space. "Jane, I spoke to Frost and Korsak."

Jane snorted and shook her head. "Like they would talk to you."

Maura ignored the jibe, knowing she deserved it. "Jane, they told me they have evidence that suggests you didn't shoot that guy."

"What?"

"They say that it's impossible for you to have shot him."

Jane turned away from Maura and glanced back at the mess behind her. "They must be wrong."

"Jane…" Maura reached out her hand but Jane pulled away before she could touch her. Maura flinched at the unexpected movement and for a moment their eyes met. "Jane, I know you didn't do this. Why are you not fighting this?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're right, it's not," Maura said, her voice suddenly so harsh that Jane looked up in surprise. "And frankly I shouldn't give a damn about you but I do and I know your family does too. Don't you think they have a right to know what really happened? Don't you think your mother deserves to know the truth instead of seeing her daughter locked up in prison for a crime she didn't commit?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" Jane answered, close to tears. Her brown eyes had fixed on the woman standing outside her door. _"Don't you dare_, Maura!"

"We're talking premeditated murder here, Jane. That's a life sentence!"

"I'm a detective, Maura. I know that!"

"Then tell them why, Jane. Tell them why you're not fighting this!" Maura protested. She felt despair settle in her chest. Jane's reluctance to accept the evidence that exonerated her frustrated her. "You went to prison for something you didn't do!"

"You want to know why all of this happened?" Jane asked. Her voice was dangerously low. "You want to know why I went to prison?"

Maura looked up at Jane. She saw the hurt and the anger behind her eyes mixed with the tears. Jane's face was a mask of emotions, interchanging rapidly. In her chest her heart ached. She hadn't imagined coming here would hurt this much. "Yes, I do."

"Because of you."

Maura didn't answer. She merely looked at Jane.

Jane shook her head and went to close the door. "You shouldn't have come here."

Before she had a chance to shut the door, Maura pushed it back open. She stepped into Jane's apartment without the detective asking and slammed the door behind her. Blazing hazel eyes snapped up to Jane's dark brown ones and she took a deep breath.

"You don't get to say that and then slam the door in my face," she said, her voice laced with anger and resentment.

"I don't'?" Jane retorted. "Because I seem to remember that's exactly what you did."

"Is that what this is about?" Maura wanted to know and stared up at Jane in disbelief. "All of this comes back…. to us?"

"There is no 'us', Maura. There never was an 'us.' Not according to you anyway," Jane snapped and walked across her living room into the direction of the window. She heard the other woman follow her and suddenly she became aware of how the hairs in the back of her neck rose up. A cold shiver crept down her spine when she felt Maura standing behind her.

"Three years, Jane," Maura said softly. She was desperate for Jane to turn around and look at her. "Three years."

"You think I don't know that?" Jane bit back.

Maura sighed. "It's a long time."

"Not long enough."

"Why don't you tell them what happened? Tell Frost and Korsak so they can clear your name. Nobody believes you did this," Maura pleaded. She watched how Jane's shoulder's dropped. She wanted to touch her, hold her, but she knew Jane wouldn't let her. "Jane, who are you protecting?"

Slowly the raven haired detective turned around. "Why would you say that?"

Maura looked up at her. "I know you, Jane," she replied. "Or I did, once. But I know you won't have changed that much. You protect the people you care about. And the more you care about them, the further you're prepared to go." She cocked her head a little. "You were willing to risk your career for me once. Now you're risking your life for someone else. Who is she?"

Jane didn't answer. Even after three years, Maura could still see through her. Three damn years this woman hadn't seen her but here she was, in the ruins of her living room, and she knew. She'd fitted the pieces together and she saw what nobody else had been able to see. She saw what she had done, what she was still doing, and she called her on it. After everything they went through, the lengths she went through to forget about Maura Isles and push her out of her life, she walked straight back in and saw right through her in a way nobody else ever could.

She ached inside. Seeing Maura stand in her living room hurt a lot more than she had ever thought it would. She wanted her to leave yet she wanted to stay, to never ever leave again. She wanted to scream and shout at her, make her feel all the things she had felt but at the same time she wanted to hold her, feel her, love her the same way she once had.

"Who is she, Jane?" Maura pressed.

"Her name is Andrea," Jane answered softly. "Andrea Ryan. She was Aaron McKenna's last victim."

Maura's heart suddenly felt heavy. "He raped her."

Jane nodded. "He brutalised her, just like he brutalised all his victims. But Andrea… he almost killed her. I think, in some way, he did kill her. His previous victim, Tina Andrews, died from the injuries he inflicted on her, which is how we got the case. When McKenna attacked Andrea, she shared every gruesome detail of what he did to her. I spoke to her for three hours in the hospital. The man was a monster."

"So when he came out…"

"Andrea lost it," Jane answered. "She told me she was going to kill him. She started stalking him. That night she told me I called her after she sent me a text message saying he was in some bar in Southie. I went over to see her, to stop her from whatever she was thinking about doing. I found her in her car parked outside this dump and then McKenna came out. She went after him, into the alley. I followed and when I caught up, he'd pinned her against the wall, told her he should have killed her. I tried to pull them apart and pushed McKenna away but Andrea somehow got my gun and…"

"She shot him," Maura finished Jane's sentence. "And you tried to protect her."

Jane didn't look at her. "I told her to run so she ran. I took the gun, wiped it clean and then made sure my finger prints were on it and waited."

"Where is she now?" Maura asked softly.

"Somewhere beyond extradition."

"Jane," Maura said softly, "you need to tell them what really happened."

"I know," Jane admitted. "But he deserved what he got. No judge would have been lenient on Andrea, no matter what he put her through. She deserves a chance at life." Her eyes found Maura's. "We all do."

"Is that why you were willing to go to prison for her?" Maura wanted to know.

Jane shrugged. "What else did I have left?" A lonely tear slid down her cheek and she briskly wiped it away, unwilling to show her pain. She couldn't take her eyes off Maura. "When you left, I didn't have anything anymore."

Maura's heart broke at those words. "Jane, I'm sorry."

Jane didn't answer. There had been moments where she wanted Maura to come back more than anything. After walking out of the wedding she kept hoping she would still come back. Every knock on the door, every time the phone rang… in the end the hope slowly died. Their lives had gone different ways and whatever they had once been, it had been destroyed. But here she was, in front of her, whispering soft apologies and Jane realised that she never stopped loving her at all.

Maura stepped closer to Jane and carefully took the detectives hands into her own. She felt the tingling feeling spread from her fingers up her arms. Her heart hammered in her chest and she leaned in until her lips were close to Jane's.

"I'm here now," she said softly, her grip on Jane's hands tightening. "And this time I'm not leaving."

There had been a time where she would have thought that what she was about to do was wrong. But those times were behind her now. She felt Jane's fingers twirl the golden wedding band around her finger before slowly, carefully, removing it. It was a simple gesture that said more than a thousand words ever could. In the midst of all their anger, all their hurt, they found another moment of comfort and Maura carefully leaned in, softly pressing her lips against Jane's.

Jane kissed her back. For three years she had resented Maura for leaving, for destroying her, but now she was back in her life, it was as if all the walls came down. The love had never died, it had just been hidden behind the hurt and the anger, simmering away, waiting to burst out again. And here it was, out in the open, freed from its restraints.

"Don't leave," Jane whispered when they broke apart. She brushed her hands through Maura's hair and their gazes locked. "Don't ever leave again."

"I never should have left in the first place," Maura said softly. She briefly looked down at her left hand, now void of the wedding ring. "When you told me you loved me, I got scared. I wanted to say I loved you too but I was frightened of what would happen to our friendship." She swallowed. "Me not saying those words destroyed everything I held most dear. I've spent the last three years of my life trying to fill a hole that could never be filled. Until now."

"What about Ethan?" Jane asked and Maura arched an eyebrow in surprise. She felt Maura's wedding ring in the palm of her hand. It felt like a burden. "Don't look at me like that. I know his name."

"It will take time, Jane," Maura whispered. "That's all I ask of you. Time."

"Okay," Jane breathed. "I can do that."

"It's late," Maura said softly. "I should probably go…"

Jane watched her as she walked across the room but when she reached the door, she called her back. "Maura?" Maura turned in the doorway, their eyes meeting across the room.

"Stay."


End file.
